Unknown Subject
by seven days later
Summary: The team fly to Idaho for a case when small boys are being kidnapped and mutilated, immediately presenting Hotch with a problem separating the work from personal as one of the victims looks just like Jack. Casefic with H/P romance, now complete!
1. Wheels up in Twenty

_A/N:) Just want to say that this is my first Criminal Minds multichapter, so please do tell me what you think of the plot and characterisation. Updates should be more or less daily, unless I die, or something of the like. ANyway, enjoy the story, and don't forget to review!_

_-Seven x x _

* * *

**Wheels up in Twenty  
**

Agent Emily Prentiss was used to being woken in the middle of the night by the irksome ring on her phone. It was almost habit now to turn over, press all the buttons on the keypad and mumble something mostly incoherent and completely rude into the mouthpiece before rolling over and going straight back to sleep. However, it was now also habit for JJ to call twice.

So it was down to business, grab the go-bag, wheels up in twenty, and Agent Prentiss didn't even have time to eat breakfast.

"Christ Emily, is that your stomach?" Morgan asked, and his colleague glared at him for drawing attention to the loudness of her organs. "I thought that was the engines failing."

"Unless you have something edible to give me, can we please get on with the case?" She snarked, holding her nose in the air as her stomach once again protested its emptiness. Loudly. JJ laughed and Rossi smirked into the case file he was reading.

"Good morning," Hotch took the spare seat next to Prentiss, looking admittedly tired. "Case?" JJ handed out the files, a slightly disgusted look on her face.

"I have to brief you on the plane because this unsub moves fast. Four victims in under a month; no discernible pattern on when they were kidnapped or dumped." The team opened their files and immediately wished they hadn't. Even Rossi turned away, and Prentiss had to stifle a gasp. Hotch glanced sideways at her, making sure that she was okay, but she turned her face away from him, needing to regain her composure. JJ wasn't even looking at the crime scene photos.

"Victimology." Hotch ordered, knowing what he saw from reading the file, but needing additional input for any discernible conclusion.

"Four boys, all under the age of five, and at least three. No signs of sexual abuse." Hotch looked up in surprise, and Morgan traded confused looks with Prentiss. In a kill this violent, there was almost always signs of sexual abuse. "There was a total of ten stab wounds on one boy, with an unknown object, but he died of blunt force trauma. It was clear that some of the wounds were created post mortem." JJ continued, not needing a file to read off of. She may not have an eidetic memory, like Reid, but the details of this case were certainly sticking in her head.

"The sexual abuse aspect is unusual, but considering the violence of the killings, maybe it's best to assume that the unsub prefers to mutilate his victims, rather than assault them sexually." Hotch's words sounded strained. The picture of the third victim looked alarmingly like Jack, but he pushed that thought away to the back of his mind. "We'll need to see the dump and abduction sites to know for sure." His team nodded to show that they were all in agreement.

"What we really need is to know is if the victims knew each other, or if the victims' families knew each other." Rossi cut in, adding his input. Morgan and Reid squirmed in their seats, uncomfortable with the use of 'victim' talking about a defenceless child. It just felt wrong to them.

"Garcia?"

"Ahead of you, Hotch. She's checking more as we speak, but I doubt that she'll find anything. The thing about kids is that they're not really in the system yet, apart from where they were born, et cetera. She's checking the parents and close family members as well, but there might be no connection there." The rest of the team nodded in agreement with her conclusion.

"You really think that you've seen it all, then something like this comes along." Morgan commented, bitterly. "I've never seen a kid in this kind of condition. At least not one who hasn't borne marks of sexual assault." Hotch nodded, frowning. This was a sticking point in the profile, and although he had only been thinking about it for a grand total of ten minutes, the anomalous nature of the lack of sexual assault was really starting to irk him.

"Yes, it's strange. The act of the stabbing may be the sexual component." He voiced his concerns, and Rossi hmmed in agreement, his frown deepening as he stared at his file.

"If it's alright, Hotch, I'd like to go to the abduction site." Hotch nodded.

"Get a feel for the unsub." Rossi copied his earlier movement, and Hotch sighed, bringing his head up to talk to the rest of the team.

"Rossi and I will tell all of the parents. Morgan, you and Prentiss go to the dump scene, take notes. Reid, you and JJ will go to the local precinct and get set up. JJ, liase with local law enforcement, and Reid, we need a geographical profile. Caucausea is a small town. I wouldn't be surprised if the unsub is a local, who's lived there all his life, but it could be helpful to narrow the area down further." He looked at all of his subordinates as he spoke to them, to see their reaction. When everyone seemed fine with his decision, he returned to the file.

No one had to speak or even look at each other to know what everyone else was thinking. This one was not going to be a walk in the park.

* * *

The Deputy Sheriff met the BAU agents at the dump scene of all four of the victims. Politely, he shook Morgan's hand, and blushed slightly as Prentiss smiled in hello, as they introduced themselves. Morgan noticed how Prentiss focused on the young handsome man, but said nothing, surmising that it was none of his business.

"Good morning, Agent Prentiss."

"You can call me Emily." Morgan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She had never even asked him to call her Emily. The Deputy smiled abashedly.

"In that case, you can call me John." He looked ever so slightly nervous when he sensed Morgan staring at him, squaring his shoulders. Morgan may not be Emily's brother in blood or race, but she was definitely his sister. Whether they both liked it or not. "The body of the fourth victim, Kyle Beauchamp, was found last night at around ten when a couple was walking by. These woods are known for... they're a romantic place for the teenagers, if you know what I mean." Prentiss and Morgan traded glances.

"Yeah, we know what you mean." Morgan voiced, and they came to a stop, at a sheet lying on the ground. It looked too big for the lump underneath it, and Prentiss felt like tucking the sides in, out of respect. "Hey, Raines. This place doesn't look like it's easy to get around."

"It's not. The killer must be local." He surmised on his own, and Morgan looked pleasantly surprised. Raines laughed.

"We're not all dumb in the country, Agent Morgan." Morgan just smiled, warming slightly to the Sheriff. "If you weren't born and bred here, you wouldn't be able to find this place twice." He sighed. "But unfortunately almost everyone who lives in the area was born and bred here, so that doesn't narrow things down much." Looking grim, he motioned through the trees, where they could see the yellow of the crime scene tape.

"Are those the other bodies?" Emily asked, and Raines nodded, visibly shaken by the thought.

"When me and my men arrived, we looked around for evidence, and trails and suchlike. Instead, we found three more bodies." Raines shook his head and although Morgan and Prentiss began to walk through the shrubbery to reach the tape, he was obviously hesitant.

"Deputy?" Morgan inquired.

"Listen, I've seen murder victims and dead bodies before, but this just really hit home with me. I have a nephew his age, and I don't get how... they're just kids. They're so young." Prentiss nodded, showing that she understood his fragmented explanation.

"It's sickening." She acknowledged, still nodding. "You can stay here, and we'll yell if there's anything that we need. We want time to discuss anyway." Raines nodded, looking slightly relieved, though also very green, as he stepped away, past Kyle Beauchamp's body.

"Oh, Emily?" She turned back at the sound of her given name. "We left the bodies exactly where we found them." Raines handed Morgan, who was closer, a couple of files. "These are the preliminary files on how the boys died, from what the ME could see at the scene. Since we only found them late last night, we haven't had the chance to move them." Prentiss nodded, and the agents went on their way, through the woods. Morgan was silent as they walked through the vegetation, until they were out of earshot of the Deputy.

"You can call me Emily." He mocked in a high, girly voice which Prentiss knew was meant to be hers.

"I just want to be on good terms with local law enforcement. We need cooperation, Derek." She insisted, though her cheeks were flushing in such a way that showed that she was embarrassed.

"Emily, trust me. Now he's gonna give you _full_ access." Morgan said, stepping into another clearing, like the one that Kyle had been found in. Prentiss rolled her eyes, muttering something indiscriminate beneath her breath as her colleague smiled as he came to crouch beside her. That friendly smirk faded as soon as she lifted the blanket, to reveal the body of the second victim - she recognised him from the crime scene photos. Morgan wordlessly opened the file.

"ME estimated time of death to be less than a week ago. Kyle only died about a day ago, but as the victims go further back, there are larger gaps between their estimated times of death and their kidnappings." Morgan informed Prentiss, and she sighed.

"That means he's escalating. He might have chosen another victim already." She said, and frowned at the victim in front of her. Not able to even learn his name because she knew that it would hurt her, she thought of him as victim #2. "The times do not overlap though. He takes one boy, then always kills him before another one is taken."

"Which means that these boys fulfil something in the time that they are held hostage." Morgan pondered out loud. "But what?" Emily hummed, still staring at the body, and taking the crime scene photographs from Morgan and staring at them, hard.

"You have that face, Em. Tell me what's going through that pretty head of yours." Morgan prompted. He would compare his thoughts against hers, and hope that they got some overlap.

"Look at the way that they're laid out." Morgan did, first at the body before them, then secondly at the crime scene photos of the other three victims. "Their hands are laid on their stomachs, and they are always laid on their backs, feet straight out. What does it look like to you?"

"A body laid out in an open casket." He realised. "The unsub feels remorse and guilt for what he's done to the boys." Both agents frowned, and Emily dropped the white sheet over the body again, swallowing hard at how small it looked.

"That doesn't make much sense though." She voiced both of their thoughts. "The killing MO was the same in all of the victims, if anything escalating in violence. But, there is no difference between how the bodies are lain out. And it's respectable, not impulsive. It would have taken time to lay them out like this, and to drive them all to the same place, revisiting the scene. This is like the unsub's graveyard." Morgan nodded in agreement.

"The actual murder doesn't fit in with the dumping of the bodies." He surmised, because speaking out loud helped him think. "Intermittent delusions would account for the change in behaviour, and the lack of pattern." He offered, and Prentiss sighed, looking up through the trees at the bleak grey sky.

"Could be, but somehow I doubt it. There would probably be more variation in victimology, and the unsub wouldn't have had the resolve to watch the victims, to see that they all looked the same." She shrugged. "I mean, we'll go over it back at the station, but I have a much more likely scenario." One which neither of them liked. Morgan stripped off his white gloves and they exited the clearing, leaving the small, fragile body under its sheet.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." He said, and Prentiss followed him out of the clearing. "Plus, you'll be able to see Deputy loverboy again."

"Shuttup Derek."

* * *

"Ma'am, we're from the FBI. May we come in?" Rossi and Morgan had barely been able to flash their identification badges before Kyle Beauchamp's mother broke, realising that her worst nightmare had just come true. That her baby boy was dead.

Since the police department in Caucausea, Idaho, was small and understaffed, they had waited for the FBI to arrive, so they could talk to the parents. This was the fourth house Rossi and Hotch had been into, and they'd used the same line at the other three doors. What really broke Hotch's heart wide open though, was that the same line was received at every door with the same exact reaction.

There were pictures of Kyle throughout the house. Rossi patrolled the living room, analysing the Beauchamp family by the way they arranged their furniture, and the way that they folded their laundry. Meanwhile, Hotch talked to the parents, in the kitchen.

It broke him to see these people, mourning for something to young pure, and wishing foir a miracle which was long past happening and cursing God for taking Kyle instead of them. _'A son should never die before his father'_, Mr. Beauchamp told Hotch, and Hotch thought of Jack and he silently agreed.

Rossi saw in Kyle's room the same things that he had seem in the other boys' rooms.

"The unsub came in through the window." Rossi commentated, speaking to himself as he wandered over to the open window, and looked out of it. He imagined watching this window for days, just waiting for the right moment. Having finished with talking to the parents, Hotch watched his mentor and his friend from his place leaning against the doorframe. Rossi approached the empty bed, where the sheets were still slightly ruffled. "Then he comes to the bed, and takes Kyle."

"ME report said that there were abrasions on Kyle's wrists and around his mouth." Hotch interjected, from the door. Rossi was unsurprised by his presence; he was used to Hotch sneaking up on people. Everyone else on the team always jumped, but Rossi could always sense when he was there. They had known each other for far too long to be surprised about anything that the other did.

"No signs of a struggle. The gag and restraints would have been for the ride to the unknown location." Rossi corrected, not even turning around. "Kyle left willingly with the unsub. Which means he was very, very scared, the unsub is very, very persuasive..." He looked to Hotch to finish his sentence.

"Or the victim knew the unsub." Rossi nodded, and Hotch shot him one of his rare smiles. "I'm not your newbie anymore, Dave. You don't have to quiz me." Rossi chuckled. "In fact, you're technically the newbie on this team."

"Aaron, you're always going to be the newbie to me." He said fondly, throwing an amused glance at his friend, who sighed.

"Okay." Hotch uncrossed his arms and wandered across the room, observing and analysing the evidence. He stood beside his former mentor. "So we're looking at someone inconspicuous, who's good with kids, most likely knows the parents, and has no logged connection with them" He surmised, clearly thinking hard.

"What did the parents say?"

"Nothing of consequence." Rossi caught the tone of Hotch's voice, but did not confront him about it. He knew immediately that he was thinking about Jack, and the serious expression which always misled the team was transparent. He had known Aaron far too long to be fooled by Agent Hotchner's stoic appearance.

"Something doesn't add up." Rossi strolled around the bed, staring about the room. "The actual murder. It's so violent, compared to the abductions. And people who had such violent tendencies or outbursts stick out in a community as close knit as Caucausea's."

"And they're not usually good with kids." Hotch added. "If we look at the killings, there's a whole different profile to if we look at the actual abduction." He stared out of the window, out into the Beauchamps' front garden. The vibrant roses beneath Kyle's window were trampled.

"Come on Aaron. Let's meet with the others and work everything up." Rossi said softly, and clamped a hand firmly but briefly on Hotch's shoulder before exiting, pulling off his blue crime scene gloves as he went.

Hotch took one last look at the room. There were toys and trinkets and scribbled pictures - everything that you would expect in a little boy's room. Except for the boy. Sighing again, and pushing Jack once more from the forefront of his mind, Hotch bent down and pressed the small elephant nightlight off on his way out.


	2. Another Boy

**Another Boy**

"I've concluded that the unsub lives in this part of the state." Reid indicated the yellow and green overlap on his map. Deputy Raines glanced sideways at Emily, who was shaking her head.

"Reid, that's practically the whole village." Morgan informed him, from where he was lounging in a computer chair, a few meters away. "Not wanting to sound ungrateful here, but is that all that you have?" Reid frowned at him.

"Actually, I haven't finished." He said testily. "It's more probable that the unsub lives in the blue area because he operates in the purple area." Raines leaned closer to Prentiss, as Reid continued to spew statistics and probabilities.

"He likes his highlighters, huh?" He asked, grinning, making Prentiss laugh quietly.

"I borrowed on once without asking and he didn't talk to me for the next three days." She joked, though it was true. Reid was awfully protective of his highlighters. JJ took one look at Prentiss and Raines' proximity to each other, and their whispered conversation, and picked up the phone to call Garcia.

"Prentiss, what do you have for me?" What was unmistakeably Hotch's voice rang across the room, and Prentiss scooched away from Raines, though not before Hotch saw.

"We concluded that the unsub who dumped the bodies had too much respect for the bodies to mutilate them like that." She answered, as Hotch and Rossi took the empty seats on either side of Morgan.

"Good. We came to the same conclusion about the killings and the abductions." Hotch replied, though with a little more hostility than he had before. Which of course, Rossi noticed immediately.

"Sorry to interrupt, but does this mean that there are two killers out there?" Raines asked, sounding shocked. It was hard enough to believe that a man who brutalised small children was in his town, but was there really two?

"Not necessarily." Hotch contradicted, confusing him further. "This suggests that unsub #1 is bringing the boys to unsub #2, then disposing of their bodies after unsub #2 is done with them. It's a classic example of a dominant meeting a submissive, and taking advantage of them. It happens more than you might think." Hotch's stoic expression and down-to-business tone fooled most of the team, and the Deputy, but Prentiss and Rossi both picked up on his bitter undertones, and exchanged glances.

"I see." Raines stood up, hooking his thumbs in his back pockets. "Since you guys are the experts, I'll leave you to all talk about what's going on. Anything you need though, and I'm just in the next room." The team nodded, and Raines smiled down at Prentiss before walking away. Rossi noticed Hotch's glare towards the man, which was merely more than an angry flash of his eyes, and rolled his own. Kids.

"Well I have Garcia on the line." Interjected JJ from behind Reid. "And she hasn't found anything. Should I ask her anything more?" While this was directed at Hotch, Rossi answered.

"Put her on speakerphone and when we need her to look someone up, we can ask her." He said, calmly, and JJ did so, placing the phone in the middle of the table.

"Okay Garcia, you're on with the crew." They convened almost automatically in a circle, like the profiling room at the BAU, Hotch at the unmistakable head of the table, the only one facing the board directly. "Is there any connection whatsoever between the victims' families?"

"There is lots of overlap, my friends. They go to the same school, are the same age, born in the same hospital, partly because there only _is_ one, their parents all went to the same school, their work overlaps occasionally, and they're in the same small neighborhood, so it's very likely that these kids knew each other." Garcia's voice sounded the same at first, but a few seconds into her speech, even Reid could tell that she was feeling for the children. "I'm trying to work out more scenarios, but I don't think that overlap's going to help you here, and there's nothing weird in the history of the parents. Financial records are normal, no criminal records except for one of the fathers was arrested at an animal rights protest in LA about fifteen years ago, and that's probably inconsequential-"

"Baby girl," Morgan interrupted, as they all recognized that she was rambling. "You did real good today. If you find anything else, call." There was no immediate answer. "Penelope?"

"Morgan, pick up the phone." Uneasy and slightly muffled over the great distance and probably through one of her colorful scarves, Garcia's voice was loud in the silence of the makeshift profiling room. The rest of the team looked away, as Morgan picked up his cell and held it to his ear, taking it off speakerphone.

"Yeah, Pen." He walked away, and Prentiss stood up, going closer to the board, and speaking really to stop herself from listening to what Morgan was saying. Even though none of the team were listening, they knew what it was about. Garcia wasn't trained like they were. She didn't know how to regulate her emotions so that no one could tell what she was thinking, and she most certainly did not want to see pictures of brutalized children. If it toyed with their emotions so much, how would she be dealing with it?

"Right, so we've agreed that there are two Unsubs?" Prentiss asked, making sure that there was no objection. Rossi nodded, and the others' lack of response showed that they agreed. "One dominant, one submissive..." Prentiss paced in front of the board, staring at the pictures. "What is the relationship between them?" Her question prompted no audible answers, as her teammates were lost in thought.

"It all depends on why the dominant wants the child." Rossi answered, without answering her question.

"We could start with a connection with the submissive and the children." Prentiss, as professional and thick-skinned as she was, couldn't refer to them as 'the victims'. Morgan slipped back into his seat, catching a sideways glance from JJ, who asked in a glance if Garcia was okay. Morgan gave a tiny nod, but crossed his arms. He clearly wanted to go home and console his best friend, but was unable to. Understanding, JJ turned away, exchanging a look with Rossi, who sighed.

"It would be someone who knows exactly what they look like." The 'founding father' of the BAU contributed. This case was wearing him down - maybe he was getting too old to see the evil in the world. Why couldn't he just retire? He had enough money so that his grandchildren would never need to work a day in their lives. That was, if anyone was going to reproduce with him. Rossi wondered briefly if he was past that as well.

"Like a teacher, or a counselor. A close friend to the parents." Hotch listed off common possibilities, going through each in his mind and trying to plug them into the scenario he had working in his head. Prentiss silently marveled at how fast his mind worked, but refrained from dwelling on it. Now was not the time for mindless admiration.

"Maybe someone who worked at the hospital they were born at?" Morgan offered, his mind clearly still on Garcia. Hotch shook his head.

"They will have changed, unless they have a check-up regularly with the same Doctor. It's still possible though - have Garcia check it out." Morgan eyed Hotch warily, warning him not to overload his baby girl - she was under enough stress as it is. "We'll give her some time, but then she has to do her job, or give us another number to call." Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he knew that his Unit Chief was correct. Garcia was there to work, not for play.

"Is there any other observations-" Prentiss was halfway through a sentence when Deputy Raines hurried through, his young face creased in worry.

"Sorry to interrupt, agents, but another boy's been taken." Hotch stood up, and the rest of his team followed suit, subconsciously looking at him for direction. He was, after all, still the boss.

"Rossi, Deputy Raines, we'll go the abduction site. Make sure that the disposal site is watched, just in case another drop is made." Prentiss looked taken aback - she was usually the one who came to talk to the parents - but kept silent all the same, as her boss and company strode away, towards the door of the precinct. JJ sighed, and put her head down into a file as Morgan stalked away to call Garcia again, knowing that she would not be happy.

Reid continued to color in his map, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration.

* * *

"Mr. Lane, I assure you that we are doing everything that we possibly can to find your son." Hotch's words were not empty: they were trying. However, Michael and Daphne Lane, the latest victim's parents, remained unconvinced.

"But who could have done this? I know that the town is small, but we never thought... he's so precious to us!" Victim number five, Joshua Lane's mother cried, sobbing. "We don't know anyone who could have done this!" Her husband merely stared out of the window, haunted by the present situation.

"I know that this is a hard time for you, but I would like to ask you some questions." Hotch asked, carefully, knowing that Deputy Raines would not know what words to use. Rossi was looking at the little boy's room now, just like he had with the other victims'. No doubt finding the same thing.

"You know that this is a hard time?" Daphne repeated, in disbelief, eyes wide and tear-filled. Michael looked at the ground, his tall frame trembling slightly. "What do you know? He is our only son! We are his parents, and we need to take care of him. Do you have children, Agent Hotchner?" Hotch despised these questions - he disliked talking to anyone he did not know about Jack, but he rationalized, albeit grudgingly, that right now was an exception.

"I have a son." He acknowledged, stiffly, clearly surprising Daphne with his admission. "I know what it's like to care for them. To protect them because that's your job." The distraught woman before him calmed slightly. At least she wasn't talking to a hypocrite. "But you really must answer some questions. They will help us find Joshua in time."

"What do you need to know?" For the first time since the conversation had started, Michael Lane squared up and took charge, his voice deeper and more stable than his wife's. The anger stage was beginning.

"I would like to know if there was anyone out of the ordinary that you saw in the days leading up to Joshua's disappearance. Anyone unusual, or any unusual vehicles." Both parents shook their heads, not that Hotch had suspected any different. He was certain that their Unsubs were local - there was no other option. Those first questions were just to make them think that everything was normal. They were the sort of questions one would imagine would be asked in a kidnapping investigation.

"No, no one." Daphne said finally, hiccuping slightly. Her husband pulled her close with one of his arms, trying to give her comfort that he didn't have to spare.

"No one was acting suspiciously, or suddenly approached your children when they had expressed no interest in them before. Anything you can tell us, anything at all will help us find Josh." The subtle use of the victim's shortened name only made them think and cry harder.

"I'm sorry." Michael's resolve was starting to break down too now, and Hotch realized that there was nothing that this couple would know. At this point, the Unsub who was abducting the children knew exactly how to do it and not get caught. He was practically a professional.

* * *

Hotch and the Deputy waited for Rossi leaning against the car, surveying the street. Hotch was isolating places that the Unsub could have watched the boy from, but could find none that would not have been noticed in such a crowded community, even if they were locals.

"So Agent Hotchner," Hotch's eyes narrowed slightly as the Deputy spoke, interrupting his pondering thought. "You have quite the team."

"Yes, I do." The Unit Chief replied calmly, keeping his voice even. He didn't know what it was about this man; he did not know why he disliked him so. He was nothing except cooperative and even contributing towards the investigation, and he was far past competent. Perhaps it was something to do with how close he was sitting with Emily earlier.

"Agent Prentiss. She's quite something, huh?" Deputy Raines was nice. Deputy Raines was even kind, but there was something in his casual tone which irked Hotch. Even more so when he knew what Deputy Raines was going to say next. "Is she... er, involved with anyone at the moment?"

"I would not know." It took a lot to keep the malice from his tone, but luckily Hotch had years of practice on his side. "I work with her, but we're not close." Closeness had nothing to do with anything. He knew that Emily was single, if just because of fragmented gossips which he had heard around the BAU, and a couple of overheard conversations and offhand comments. However, he would plead ignorance. They wouldn't work out anyway.

Why not? Was this jealousy that he's feeling?

Hotch cleared his throat.

"But no, I don't think so." He added, almost sheepishly. The feelings he had been quenching for Emily may well go away if she was taken. If she didn't seem so irresistably available to him. The Deputy watched him carefully for a few minutes, and was about to ask about the elephant sitting between them, when Rossi appeared, strolling out of the door like someone who belonged.

"The Unsub must have known the victims closely - there was no way that they could have been watched at home - too public." Hotch nodded in agreement, happy to have a distraction from his awkward conversation with the Deputy.

"I came to the same conclusion." He barked, rounding the car. "So that means that we need Garcia to find the connections between these victims, or we have nothing." Rossi eyed the street analytically, being the second and last one to climb into the car - the Deputy had brought his own, more conspicuous one.

"Actually, I think that we'll find we have enough for a profile, if we look at it the right way." Hotch sighed, and drove away. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

He couldn't stop thinking about Jack. He knew it was irrational: he was almost half a continent away from the little boy, which meant so was the Unsub, but he could not help but to worry. Ever since Foyet had targeted Hotch, he had become more aware of where Jack was at all times. He had already lost Haley, and he had no right to lose the only part of her he had left.

"Okay, let's think this over." Emily paced in front of the boards once more, and Hotch watched her with slightly narrowed eyes. She had been leading profiles for a while now. Not taking control, by any means, but she would start the conversation. She was the thought-provoker.

And she was also looking right at him.

"What about the genders of the Unsubs?" Hotch quickly brought attention away from his stare, and he was pretty sure that no one had noticed except for Emily. A room full of profilers, but they were all focussed on the case.

"The abductor could be a woman because usually, women are the submissive in these partnerships." Morgan piped up, and Emily would have glared at him had she not known that it was true. "And the dominant could be her husband or a close friend-"

"-husband." Hotch confirmed, and Morgan went on.

"The woman abducts the children, for some unknown purpose, and then the dominant keeps them for varying amounts of time, before mutilating the bodies." Morgan scratched his brow ill-temperedly, keeping the universal question silent. How could someone do this to a kid?

Across the way, JJ tried to stifle a yawn, which in turn, set Emily and Reid off yawning. Reid looked like he was dying to tell them a statistic about yawning, but knew that this was not the time.

"Tell you what, it's late. We start fresh in the morning." Hotch knew that everyone needed a chance to clear their heads, and was grateful at Rossi's suggestion, nodding to show his appreciation of his plan.

"Everyone can go back to the inn and get a couple of hours. We'll work up everything that we know in the morning." The team began to clear up, their movements slow and sluggish, from their lack of sleep over the past few days. Just coming back from a case a few hours before they were sent out on this one, they barely had time to go home and replenish the stock of clean clothes in their go bags before once more they were off.

Hotch had barely had time to see Jack before he left once again, leaving him apologetically in the care of Jessica, who did not seem to mind. She loved that little boy like she was his own, and would do anything to spend time with him. Hotch merely wished that it was under different circumstances.

Taking his time with the cleanup of files, still unable to stop thinking about his son, Hotch found that he could not concentrate. Dividing his time between Jack and work had been hard, but now there was a new variable which threw his carefully placed routine into chaos.

Emily Prentiss.

He knew exactly why he had felt so strange when the Deputy had asked him about her. Having felt jealousy before, he was no stranger to it, but it was still an odd feeling, him not having felt it for quite a long time.

Hotch snorted. This was just ironic. He, who studied human behaviour for a living, could not interpret what his own feelings meant.

Shaking his head, he gathered up the last of the files, and turned around to be faced by a very nervous looking Prentiss. His first instinct is to ask what she had done. His second instinct was to ask what was wrong, but he held it back, because he knew that too much worry would show through in her voice. Prentiss wasn't stupid. She would know when something changed between them.

"Prentiss?" Instead, he kept his voice level and secure, not blinking too much, and without sweating excessively or twitching his eyelids.

"Hotch, I know that this is bothering you." Taken aback by her truly blunt behaviour, Hotch narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" The question was a statement, and the statement was a warning. She should not venture into such dangerous waters. He was still her boss, and although she looked honestly concerned, it was none of her business what he was feeling, unless he wanted to tell her.

"I mean that you are thinking about Jack." Letting his mask slip momentarily, Hotch raised a singular eyebrow. "Don't even try to lie about it. When you think about Jack, you always check your watch and you slouch." Emily told him, matter-of-factly, making the other eyebrow raise. Maybe she was a better profiler than he gave her credit for.

"Yes, I was thinking about Jack." He admitted, though it was not in the tone of an admission; it was a lot more forceful than that. "But there's nothing wrong with that."

"You're worried." Emily corrected.

"It's irrational to worry." Hotch deflected, breaking her eye contact on the pretence of putting the files he had separated from the main pile into his briefcase. A hand on his arm made him pause, surprised at the human contact.

"It's Reid's job to be completely rational. He doesn't have kids, so he can't possibly understand. You can let things slide for a couple of minutes and just talk to someone." Her eyes were wide and concerned, and her hand remained on his arm, holding him back from leaving.

With effort that he did not completely understand why he needed to use, Hotch pulled his arm away, breaking contact completely, but staring straight at her. He didn't know why he was angry, but he was.

"I'm fine, Prentiss. Go back to the inn and get some sleep." His words were a lot more hostile than they were before, and she recoiled slightly at his vicious tone, not knowing which nerve she had trapped. Picking up his briefcase, Hotch strode away, his long gait leaving Emily far behind, merely staring at him as he walked away.

Leaving her alone in the darkened office.


	3. Late Night Conversations

**Late Night Conversations**

Emily hadn't actually known what she had been expecting. Had she been expecting him to cry that he needs her and leap into her arms? No, she was just looking for something. Something which told her what he needed, even if it was so simple as a smile and a nod, or a pat on the back. She wanted to help him, because she was seemingly the only one who could see how much pain this was causing him. Rossi was distracted by the anomalies in the case, Morgan by Garcia's welfare, and Reid... Reid never noticed much of anything.

Sighing, she took a deep gulp of her iced tea. Although she was not technically on the job, she did not want a hangover in the morning. Their judgement had to be as unimpaired as possible for the profile tomorrow.

"Agent Emily." The Deputy slid into the seat next to her, in the small inn restaurant that they were staying in. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She smiled, wryly, and shook her head.

"I don't think that I'd be able to sleep right now. I need to wind down before actually trying." Emily left out the explanation about the nightmares. She didn't think that she could deal with them right now. Maybe alcohol was a good idea, come to think about it. If she became catatonic enough, maybe she would pass out and not dream about Rome, about Foyet, about John Cooley.

"I think I'll join you," The deputy looked sideways at her, bashfully. "If that's okay, of course."

Screw Hotch. Deputy Raines was as good a man as any, and there was no reason to say no. Plus, it was just iced tea. What harm could come from it?

* * *

Hotch had come back to his room angry, but he had slowly calmed after a half an hour. He had considered calling home, but knew that Jack wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, and Jessica would be equally displeased with being woken up at such an hour. He was alone again, his three priorities circling in his mind. Jack, the case and Emily.

But since when had she become one of his priorities? Since she found him in hospital and stayed by his bedside? Since he realised, after that car crash, that she wasn't invincible like he for some reason thought she was? Or was it since earlier, when she showed him that she actually does give a crap, and this wasn't anything to do with the job, or her duty as his employee.

Hotch growled slightly into his hands, rubbing his tired face in an attempt to provoke thought with meaning. He just didn't know when Emily had become so important to him, but she had. Was it really wise to push her away?

Too many questions were posed in his mind, about the Unsub and Emily Prentiss, so Hotch did what he believed was his only option.

He worked.

* * *

Emily and Raines stayed well past their welcome in the inn, having kept the bartender up for a few hours with their constant demand for iced tea. So, knowing that they couldn't go up to her room because of the thin walls and the proximity to her co-workers, they wandered outside, into the darkness of the night.

"I think, Agent Emily," Raines began, using his new title for the agent, his hands grabbed behind his back as they strolled down the dimly lit town street. "I think that I had a good time in there." Looking sideways, he noted her smile.

"I think that I had a kind of good time as well." She said back, meandering over to a bench, just in front of the police station. "But I have to tell you, Deputy John, that my team's real protective of their own. Morgan's like my brother and Rossi's a little bit like my philandering uncle. Ultimately, they don't want to see me get involved with someone who they haven't intimidated." Raines sighed, staring out at the police station in front of him as he had too sat down on the bench.

"I suppose Hotch is like the father of you all then." Emily stayed silent, and he cocked his head to the side, surprised by her lack of response. "I asked him, earlier, if you were with anyone." Emily raised an eyebrow.

"You did, did you?"

"Yes, I did." He flirted back, making her smile. "He sounded protective, and kind of hostile." Emily shrugged, thinking of her Unit Chief.

"He sometimes comes off cold, but he's a good man."

"A good man?"

"Yeah." Raines watched Emily carefully and finally sighed, turning his attention back to the station. There was a light on inside, but they couldn't see through the glass to see who had turned it on, because of the reflections of the streetlamps. "He's good at what he does, that's what I mean."

"Well, Agent Emily, I'll be going home now. I ain't like you feds. I need sleep to function." Raines joked, but gave her the distinct impression that she'd said something wrong.

"See you tomorrow, Deputy." Emily called, leaning back and staring at the stars, thinking of everything and anything. She remained restless. Raines was about to walk away, when he paused, and looked back.

"Agent, what's happening in this town?" He asked, worriedly, and Emily squirmed in her seat, unable to fully answer his question.

"We'll work up the profile completely tomorrow, and then we'll be able to narrow down the suspect pool, and catch the people who are doing this." The Deputy nodded, and strode away, looking to the ground, concerned about what kinds of things were happening in the nice, civil town which he had known and grown up in.

With another sigh, and an almighty effort, Emily stood up, heading back towards the inn to try and get some sleep.

From inside the police station, Hotch watched the two law enforcement officers part their separate ways, then stared back down at the papers he was looking at. Emily's business was none of his, but he still could not help but to become angry, as he realised that he wanted to be the one sitting on that bench with her, talking in the middle of the night under the stars.

But how would she react if he finally let her in?

* * *

_Less plotty, I know, but we'll get to that tomorrow. Review please!_

_-Seven x x _


	4. Early Morning Conversations

_A/N:) Okay, third last chapter everyone. Prepare yourself for some serious profiling... though I'm not a profiler, and there may be slight jumps in the profile for that exact reason. Please tell me how I've done. Thanks again for all of the reviews which people have left, and even just for reading. They make me all happy and bubbly inside. _

_-Seven x x_

* * *

**Early Morning Conversations**

"Everyone set?" Rossi asked, and the dark-eyed profilers nodded, some of them yawning. A few hours was no equivalent to actual sleep, but it was most certainly better than nothing. While the girls had covered up the bags under their eyes with make-up, the boys were looking worse for it, the dark eyes not doing any of them any favors.

"Right, the genders of the unsubs are male and female, possibly a married couple?" Morgan asked, frowning down at his copy of the case file.

"The abductions are submissive, but I'm starting to doubt that they're by a woman." Rossi countered, leaning back in his chair, and staring at the board instead, with all of the boys' pictures tacked up on it. "The boys were dressed, cleaned and groomed before their deaths, but perhaps that wasn't the submissive." Hotch frowned.

"Dave, specify."

"I mean that perhaps it was the husband who abducted the children. The role of the husband is the provider, so perhaps he provides the children for his wife. They can't have children, or they lost one." The team traded looks. It was plausible, but extremely circumstantial. Torn between the giant leap in the profile and trusting Rossi's instincts, Hotch decided to move on for now.

"What about the murder itself. These are not typical, controlled wounds. These are full of rage." Reid asked, sensing that Hotch was just about to say a similar thing, but was distracted by the familiarity of the face. "Typical for a delusionary Unsub."

"You mean that he, or she, believed that this child was their own, then realised that it wasn't?" Morgan asked, disbelievingly. "If that's true, they probably were submitted to some sort of hospital."

"And either the trigger was the release from the facility, or the loss of her own child. Dave, I think you're right." Hotch expanded upon Morgan's point, though it was addressed to Rossi. "The dominant could be a delusional woman, who is dominant in the relationship with her husband. He wants to provide for her, so he brings her children which all look like the son she lost. That explains for the victimology."

"That explains a lot of things, actually." Morgan admitted, thinking it over carefully and scribbling a note down into his notepad. "The Unsub #2, the woman, takes the child in, thinking that it is her own. She takes care of it, for however long she is fooled, but then something happens. Maybe the boy cries too much, or is too needy of food. It might be so simple as she decides one morning that this is not her son. She becomes frustrated, and angry. Then, she kills the boy in her anger."

"That's disgusting." Emily hissed, from her seat next to Reid. "But it does mean that she's probably been noticed."

"Not necessarily." Hotch shot her down, without even looking at her. "This area is full of farms, of country houses. There's a good chance that this illness has just began to manifest in a dangerous way. She may have been taking medication, but I doubt that she would have been committed."

The team nodded into their case files, circling the profile in their head until it was ready to put down on paper. Then, they put it to the Caucausea Police Department, and hoped to God that it flagged someone.

* * *

Garcia was their knight in shining armour. Despite her earlier disgust with the case, she knew exactly what was at stake, and knew that she'd rather face the Unsub herself than let that innocent little boy die.

"Alright, mon capitans, tell me which way my fingers should fly." The all too familiarly bubbly answer shot out of the loudspeaker of Morgan's phone, and he looked relieved at how relaxed she sounded.

"You have all the data on the people of Caucausea, right Red?"

"Yes I do, my chocolate prince. Did you expect anything else?"

"We need to find the death record of a small boy. Brown hair, dark eyes. Between the ages of three and six. It's likely to have happened within the last two months." There was a moment of silence, where only the clicking of Garcia's keyboard was their conversational companion.

"Nope, sorry. None which match that description." Morgan traded a look at Hotch, who stared at the phone.

"Garcia, try death records of grown males, with the same criteria and the same timeframe." Morgan looked perplexed, but Emily caught on to what he was trying to find.

"You think that their son is grown up?" Hotch nodded, still not looking at her, which was beginning to raise suspicion with Rossi and Emily alike.

"They're trying to rear him again." Garcia's voice came out at them again, breaking the small realisation.

"Two matches, but the parents would have to be about one hundred and two. There's nothing here that you can use. Sorry." Undeterred, Reid leaned forwards, frowning at the phone as if it was actually a person who he was talking to.

"Try live males who were born and bred in the Caucausea area, who committed a crime recently."

"Same visual parameters?"

"Yes." Morgan and Emily looked at each other, equally confused by Reid's seemingly random request.

"What are you thinking Reid?"

"Morgan, I don't think you'd be able to understand." Rossi chided gently from the sidelines, lightening the mood slightly.

"There are four matches, sending you their and their parents' files now." Reid thanked her and Garcia disconnected. Leaning back in his seat and smiling pleasantly at everyone else around the table, who was staring at him in a way hinting that they needed an explanation. Emily was the one who finally rolled her eyes and asked him straight out.

"Why did you ask for the criminal record parameters?"

"They wanted to rear the boy again. There's a good chance that he was caught up in some sort of criminal activity, if they feel that they did not rear him properly. Just at thought. There's only four to go over, and I'll do it if you want to pursue other leads."

"No, kiddo." Rossi was the first to object. "We work as a team, and we all go over them." Reid smiled in his sweet, gangly way, and Emily shook her head, ruffling his hair slightly.

"I'm going to go get some coffee. Anyone else?" She sighed, as everyone's hands were raised, but Hotch stood up as well.

"I'll help." Emily smiled slightly, though it was strained. Hotch had been trying to avoid her all morning, and now there was a badly veiled attempt to talk to her in private. What did he want to say?

She walked away, and he followed her to the small and only coffee machine in the Caucausea police station.

* * *

When they reached the machine, Emily began to fill up her pile of takeaway coffee cups, and Hotch made no effort to make conversation. They were halfway through the pile of cups when he began, and his voice was far from friendly.

"Prentiss, I think you need to take this a little more seriously." Expressionless, he stared at her, and she was so shocked at his words that she nearly spilt the cups she had already filled.

"Take the case more seriously?" She asked unsure if she had heard right. When he nodded, she very nearly spilt her coffee again. "In what way, Hotch, have I not taken the case seriously? I have busted my ass these past two days-"

"When I tell you to go back to the inn and get some rest, you go back to the inn and get some rest. You need any sleep you can get, and it didn't look like you and Deputy Raines were getting any sleep last night. The bureau doesn't pay you to go on dates, Prentiss. I need you to have a clear head." The force of his tone made her shrink back a little, unused to hearing him so angry.

"First of all, _Sir_, I couldn't sleep. Second of all, why should you care what company I keep? My head is clear, and we're gaining ground with the profile so what the hell are you complaining about?" Emily knew immediately that she should not have replied. The dark look in Hotch's eyes had intensified by several times squared, and she could tell from his body language that most of his muscles were tensed. She had never bared the brunt of his anger like this before.

It was damn scary, but she resisted from apologising because she quite frankly had nothing to apologise for. Having realised that he was the light which was on inside the station last night, she knew that he had seen her and John Raines' conversation, but wondered why the hell it pissed him off so much.

"Excuse me, Sir." She seethed, though kept her mask in place, while she could see that his was slipping. Pushing past him, she strode back to the group, careful not to spill her coffee and attract attention to herself. Thankfully most of the team was buried in their notes and files, so no one, save for Rossi, noticed.

Hotch stood still for a moment, then turned back to the machine, filling up the remaining cups and working to replace his poker face, wondering all the while about what answers he had for the question she had posed.

Why should he care about the company she keeps?

._.._


	5. Second Chances

**Second Chances **

"I think I have something here." Morgan was on the third file, looking over with a newly returned Emily, who was noticeably angry to anyone who was looking. Morgan decided to let it slide for now - they had a job to do, and they could worry about feuds later. Since Emily seemed to have a similar mentality, she kept her professional mind as wide open as possible. "Daniel Ortega, seventeen when he was arrested for attempting to rob a bank. Killed in the apprehension." He looked up, at the rest of the team. "Is it just me, or does that fit our profile?"

"We were off - they're trying to give him a second chance. That's why they're trying to do everything the same, and become frustrated when they realize that it's not their child!" Hotch realized aloud, and the team congregated around the file, bunching over the pile of papers. Emily quickly waved over Deputy Raines, who came without question, and without the enthusiasm of yesterday which he had displayed when Emily had spoken to him.

"Yes Agent Prentiss?" Hotch couldn't help but raise his eyes slightly, to check what he had heard was correct. Yes. Deputy Raines' body language was definitely different from the day before. Still not hostile as such, but there was a professionalism which it had lacked last night when he had seen them sitting on that bench. Forcing himself to focus on the case, and nothing else, he answered the Deputy before Emily could.

"Do you remember a man called Daniel Ortega?" He asked, while his team rushed to their cars, where they kept their raid vests. The lead looked promising.

Deputy Raines screwed up his face, clearly trying to remember.

"I know the name - he left town about two months ago, I think. Went to LA, I think. Caught while trying to rob a bank and went down shooting. I remember going to his service. His parents..." A sudden look of realization dawned on his face. "His mother wouldn't stop screaming, and hitting her husband. I can't imagine what it was like to lose your son, so I just thought... now I think about it, I haven't seen her since." Hotch nodded. The Ortegas was definitely their Unsubs.

"Hotch," Morgan called, from the doorway, strapping on his vest. "Garcia just found that the dad, Mason Ortega, runs the local toy store. That's how he had so much access to the kids."

"Deputy, I want all of your men to the last known address of the Ortegas, but you need to follow our lead and not go in until we tell you to. This is an awkward hostage situation." Hotch strode away from the room, his long legs nearly even leaving the relatively tall Deputy behind.

"Sure, Agent Hotchner. We'll keep to the perimeter until your team has spoken to the Ortegas." Raines seemed shocked at the epiphany in the case. Not only was there two murderers in his town, there were two that no one ever thought to screen. The local toy store, for Chrissakes!

Rushing out to the four black SUVs in the drive, Hotch jumped into one with Morgan, leaving the rest to pair up as they would. Fiddling with the settings on his radio, Hotch knew that this one was going to be no walk in the park. With the Unsub Michelle Ortega being the way that she was, it was unlikely that Joshua Lane would survive the apprehension.

* * *

The farm was silent - so far away from any outlet of town that one could barely see Caucausea's illumination at night, through the thickness of the trees and the angles of the surrounding hills. With acres to themselves in every direction, the Ortega household had a similar advantage to a castle on the hill. They could always see the enemy coming.

Mason Ortega spotted the trails of dust, caused by the approaching cars on the dirt tracks, and knew immediately what had happened. He ran a business - he was not stupid, or deluded. One car could be a salesman. Two cars could just be kids. Any more, though, meant that he had been found.

Mason Ortega neared his wife's bedroom door, having slept separately from her for now almost a month, and knocked. He could hear her whispers, as she tried to sing Daniel to sleep.

"Come in, dear." The door opened, and he realised that she looked happy. She was content, with this boy. This was her Daniel, the boy who was their son. What was more: if the boy was Daniel to her, if his dear Michelle was happy, so would Mason be. "Dan's just off to sleep."

Joshua stared up at Michelle blearily, unsure of everything. He was young - he knew nothing of what these people were, and why they had him. But they were taking care of him, despite the fact that they stole him from his real family. Young Joshua pretended, knowing that the games had stopped a long time ago, and also knowing that

Haltingly, still frightened of the strangers who were calling him by a name which was not his, Joshua closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

"I think we should leave him to sleep now." Michelle told Mason, and he smiled at the life in her eyes, which he had not seen for a long time. The other boys had not made her so happy - they were never right for her. But this one was, and they would keep him forever with them, and the Lord would have them live in paradise, all three together.

"No, you stay in here." Mason urged. They would go together, as the family that their biological son had never allowed them to be. "I'll stay too. Let's just watch the baby sleep."

So they sat, hand in hand, Mason aware and worried of their fate, and Michelle content that she had finally found her second chance. They watched the boy sleep.

* * *

"Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to branch off upstairs, Rossi, we'll cover the ground floor. JJ, Reid, you and local law enforcement keep the perimeter, and after we've cleared our floor you can move in." Hotch ordered, the instructions rolling off his tongue like they were second nature. Which, after over twenty years in the FBI, they really were.

The team seemed to be good with their Unit Chief's plan, and all nodded, checking their weapons, vests and radios.

"Alright, let's go." Hotch, Morgan, Emily and Rossi waited at the front door while the others secured the back, and all other possible exits, such as the windows, and the barn. After a strenuous few seconds of waiting, Hotch listened to his cue on the radio, took a breath to calm his nerves, causing the others behind him to followed suit.

Quickly and efficiently, Morgan kicked the door and Hotch rushed inside, shining his flashlight and holding his gun out in front of him. Coming in quiet was no longer a problem, so they all flooded through the rooms of the farmhouse, the younger two thundering up the stairs, knowing that their footsteps would alert the Unsubs, but also knowing that it was too late to do anything about it than to move as fast as they could.

"Ground floor is clear, I repeat, ground floor is clear." Hotch said, stopping momentarily in the kitchen and giving the signal to Reid. Then, with one look at Rossi, who had appeared at the doorway with a look on his face which implied he had the same result, they both ran up the stairs, Hotch's heart beating a little faster than it usually did on a raid. Who knew how Michelle Ortega would react to the intrusion in her home? She could try to take all of their lives.

He arrived outside the door, where he could hear talking. It was Morgan, and Hotch sidled into the room surreptitiously, coming to rest beside Prentiss, who was standing by as Morgan talked to the woman of about fifty, who was sitting on the bed with a surprisingly calm Joshua Lane in her arms. She was also holding a small but still threatening kitchen knife, across Joshua's throat.

"Michelle, you don't want to do that." Morgan was saying, but his words were not appearing to have any effect. "Why would you want to kill him?" Michelle rocked back and forth slightly, his words having effect, though not drastic enough effect. Prentiss stood forwards, her gun still pointed at Mason Ortega, who was holding his hands in front of him, half in submission and half in prayer.

Hotch nodded to her subtly and crossed the room, taking Unsub #1's hands and cuffing them behind his back, so he could not pray any more.

"Michelle, I know that it's hard, but you have to let go." Emily said softly to Michelle, wondering if maybe she would relate to another woman. "Why would you want to hurt Daniel?" Michelle merely cried harder, sobbing and sobbing until she was nearly gagging with hysteria. "I know that he disappointed you, and I know that you miss him, but Daniel is gone. You went to his funeral."

Hotch traded glances with Morgan. The traditional approach, which Morgan had tried, had not changed Michelle Ortega's mind, but what Emily was doing - disrupting a dangerous woman's delusion - was beyond risky. Not only could it end in the death of the young boy, it could also result in the death of Michelle.

The stakes were raised further as Emily put down her gun, and Hotch would have told her to stop, but the deed was done, and any further move was a stupid one. Handing off the husband to Morgan, Hotch came up to stand a little to Emily's right, just in the plane of Michelle's vision, as the younger man took Unsub #1 downstairs to the waiting police car.

"Michelle, I know that it's hard, but you need to let go of Joshua." Emily repeated herself, using the boy's name for the first time. And for the first time, a tear slid down the face of the little boy, and she was reminded, horrifically, that however strong and brave he was acting or feeling, he was still just five years old, and he was not meant to know about the horrors of the world just yet.

"His name is not Joshua." Suddenly, with a shaking voice, Michelle Ortega spoke, almost surprising Emily. "His name is Daniel. He is my son, you cannot take hm away from me."

They had to understand that she was being kind. She was giving Daniel another chance, to be happy. They would not make the same mistakes in bringing him up this time - they would make sure that he was happy and content, and that when the final day of judgement came, he would be seen of as a good man, and nothing less.

"You took him away from his family Michelle. You took him away from everything and he's scared. He's scared of you because you're not his mother. You think that he's the right one, but you're wrong." Michelle's grip tightened on the knife, and Hotch hoped to God that Emily knew what she was doing. "You think that you have Daniel, and that you've been given a second chance, but he's not the one. I can help you find the one. I can help you find Daniel, but first you need to give me Joshua."

Michelle stared at her through watercolor eyes, her lip quivering. Hotch knew that what Emily was doing was precarious, but he also knew that he trusted her. She would do whatever she must to save that young boy, and he trusted her to make the right call. With held breath, he waited for her next words, hoping that they would be the right ones.

"I can find you your son, and he will be perfect, and he will love you like the way he used to. When he was a young boy, before his soul changed." Emily realised, aloud, twisting her words so they made sense to Michelle.

Hotch breathed out slowly. That was why they chose young boys - that detail of the profile had been bothering him. The mother yearned for the connection she used to have with her child. Complete, unconditional love.

"Joshua's soul is wrong. He doesn't love you, like that little boy does, somewhere out there. You can care for him, and you can nurse him to life, and he will love you like he loved nothing else. Absolutely and unreservedly. Whatever happens, Daniel will always love you and you will always love him." The uncertainty in Michelle's eyes was making Hotch nervous.

"You can help me find my baby?" She asked, in a small, scratchy voice, her grip on Joshua becoming lax. But not yet lax enough. Emily nodded, inching forwards, but crushingly slow. One sudden movement and it was all in vain.

"I can. I promise. I will help you find your baby and he'll grow up good and strong. He'll take care of you when there's no one else there, because you were there for him." Playing every single card that she could think of, Emily inched further still, as Michelle relaxed more, her tears coming faster and bigger. To Hotch it seemed like his heart was in his mouth, as if he was watching a bad horror movie, knowing what was on the other side of the door, but having no ability to warn the heroine of the movie as she moved towards her upending doom. Mouth dry, heart beating faster than he thought possible or even healthy, Hotch tried to swallow away his fear. It didn't work.

"You have a son?"

"I have a daughter." Emily lied smoothly, knowing that there was no truth in this conversation to bide by anyway. Although it hurt her to do so, she knew fine well that lying was the best thing to do. "I nearly lost her too, but I found her again, and you know what? I was so happy; we were happy together. You need to let me help you and you can be happy with Daniel again." The grip relaxed further, and Emily tensed. She was within arm's reach of the woman. "Please, Michelle. Without you, Daniel will never be happy."

A empty wail filled the room, as the Unsub let go of Joshua, who fell to the floor, beginning to cry as well as Hotch grabbed him and pulled him away, moving so fast that had Michelle wanted to respond, she would not have had a chance. Rossi, still waiting just outside the ajar door, took the boy downstairs, to the cars and away from the room he had been kept in for the last day.

Emily could have shot Michelle there. She could have roughly manhandled the woman, and taken her into custody like any other criminal, but she didn't. Lying was not something that Emily took lightly, and in that moment, she had decided that she was going to help Michelle find Daniel.

Reaching down, she took the knife from the remaining Unsub, and handed it to Hotch, who put it in an evidence bag, which would be needed in court. Then, Emily helped the woman up, and gently, ever so gently, put her in handcuffs.

"Where's Daniel, you said that you'd help me find Daniel." Michelle shook like a leaf in the wind, and Emily, despite what Hotch expected her to do, stared straight back at the Unsub.

"Daniel was your son, and no matter what you thought of him, or what he did, he loved you, like every boy loves his mother. That's never going to change." Michelle dropped her head to her chest, exhausted with talking, and Hotch realized that small reassurance, was all that Michelle ever wanted to hear. Emily steered her slowly out of the room, trying not to show how much emotion she was feeling.

Hotch watched her go. Seeing how calmly she had taken the entire situation into stride, he could not help to admire her, and her strength as both a profiler and a person. Admiration was enough for a colleague, but Hotch knew that here was a problem, because he was feeling so much more than admiration.

He was in love with her - a feeling which he hadn't felt truly since Haley's death, though he knew that it wasn't the same. Ironically love is like some diseases. There are so many strains which cannot be remedied, even if some can. Furthermore, the same strain is never experienced by the same person twice. Haley was one strain and Emily was another, it was that simple. That didn't mean that he loved them the same, or one more than the other, just that they were decidedly different, so much so that measurement was impossible.

And although he wasn't so sure what he was going to do with these newfound feelings for his subordinate, he knew one thing for sure. Haley had been the only woman he had cared about for most of his life. When she died, he was unsure if he could ever love again, but this jealousy, admiration and frustration just proved that he could. That he was truly being given a second chance.

* * *

_Tell me what you think and review. Same time frame (daily) for the next chapter... as long as you review!_

-Seven x x


	6. Roll the Dice

**Roll the Dice**

They had more than enough for a court conviction: confessions; murder weapons; blood red hands. Hotch had no doubt that their case was closed. To pack up and leave was the only thing left for them in the small town of Caucausea and they were damn near finished with that as well.

Hotch and Rossi had stayed marginally longer at the local police station than the rest of the team. The Unit Chief knew that he had to express the unit and the FBI's gratitude for the police officers' help and cooperation in the case. Rossi had waited for a moment to talk to his friend for a while now, and he found it appropriate as they left the station, crossing the road to the inn to repack their barely unpacked go-bags.

"Aaron, I noticed a certain tension amongst the team of late." Hotch felt like hitting his palm off his head, but thought that perhaps that would show his emotions too clearly. Not that it would make any difference when it came to the 'founding father' of behavioral analysis.

"Really?" He asked, trying to keep his poker face unreadable, and perhaps show a little twitch of the eyebrow to signify surprise, as they paused, before the front door of the inn. Rossi, predictably, was not fooled.

"And by the team I mean you and Emily."

"Really." Poker face intact; voice revealing nothing; Rossi could see straight through his facade.

"Aaron," The tone of the older agent's voice made Hotch halt, the palm of his right hand hovering just in front of the door, ready to push it open. "I may be slower than I used to be, but I think I can tell when a man is jealous and when a man is being the boss." Hotch sighed.

Who had he been fooling? Even if the rest of the team had not noticed, Rossi would have probably ended up telling them. Rossi could guess - with frightening accuracy - the colour of his underwear. When it came to something as dreadfully obvious as his weakness for Emily, there was no hope for keeping it from David Rossi, who quite literally wrote the book on profiling.

"Dave, I'm keeping my emotions separate. There's no way that I'm letting this affect my work." Rossi raised an eyebrow at Hotch, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and held loosely against his chest.

"Aaron, the whole problem is that you're keeping your emotions too separate. I'm not going to lecture you about fraternisation with other agents."

"Yeah, you'd better not." Hotch muttered darkly, reminded strongly of the situation which led to the second Mrs. David Rossi.

"But," Rossi continued, pointedly. "I do have some advice for you, and I think that you'd better listen to what I have to say. Emily is not the kind of woman who enjoys uncertainties. There is no gray area with this one, Aaron, let me make that clear to you. You either let her in, or let her go." There was a finality in Rossi's tone which left no space for argument. Shaking his head, Hotch pulled open the front door to the inn, far too tired and confused to even consider a debate with one of the most stubborn men he had ever met.

"Since when was I so easy to read?" He asked, almost light-heartedly, as they crossed to the stairs, nodding at the innkeeper as he went. Behind him, Rossi chuckled.

"Since you started at the BAU."

"I started at the BAU close to fifteen years ago. I'd like to think that I've improved my poker face since then. " Hotch batted back, reaching the landing at the top of the stairs and continuing down the corridor.

"Like I said yesterday, Aaron. You'll always be the newbie to me." The older agent called, branching off to his own room with a slight smile on his face. Rolling his eyes, Hotch moved towards the end of the hall, where his room was. Thankfully, the inn had been big and empty enough to accommodate all of them, and the only two who had been forced to share was Reid and Morgan, much to Morgan's frustration.

While he was gathering his paperwork, and his go-bag into its traveling order, Hotch could not help but to dwell over Rossi's words, still surprised, as ever, at how much information Rossi could extract from a witnessed but not heard exchange at a coffee machine.

Let her in or let her go.

Trust Rossi to make an ultimatum. But it was true. Hotch had no right whatsoever to dictate that Emily should not be with anyone but him, if he was not willing to even open up and talk to her. If he didn't trust her enough. What kind of man could he profess to be, if he valued his happiness over hers?

Hanging his head in confusion, he zipped up his go-bag and spared one last look around the room as if it would reveal to him the answers to all of the questions spinning around his head. When it didn't, he turned off the lamp and left in a silence which only amplified his encertainty. Did he really deserve a second chance? Did he deserve to fall in love again, after what had happened between him and Haley?

* * *

Emily shared Morgan's rental SUV on the way back to the jet, holding her go-bag on her lap as she watched the trees pass by from the back seat window.

"It's funny..." She said, suddenly, and Morgan glanced in his mirror questioningly.

"What's funny?"

"It's funny how I'm supposed to pride myself on my morality, when I lied to Michelle Ortega."

"Michelle Ortega was a murderer." The male agent reminded her unnecessarily from his seat in front of her.

"I know, but she was just trying to do the right thing, and trying to give her son another chance, and she just wanted him to be happy. Her intentions were good, even if her grasp on the law and societal boundaries was different than ours." Morgan was barely able to reply, from lack of response.

"Emily, you know what the road to hell is paved with, right?" He checked, trying to reassure her, and lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"I know that we had to catch her. I know that she's the bad guy and we're the cops, but what really gets me is _my_ intentions."

"Which are?" Morgan asked, calmly, trying to piece together the fractured logic coming from the seat behind him, and concentrate on the road at the same time.

"Good, Morgan. I have good intentions, just like she believed hers to be. What makes us so different?" The pain of her words was audible in her voice, and suddenly Morgan knew what she was talking about. The same questions had run through his own head many times.

"How you act upon your intentions. You know that, Emily." He replied softly, glancing into his mirror every spare second to see how his friend would react. When she didn't he spoke, concerned about her silence, yet still needing to carefully navigate the windy country roads.

"Emily?"

"Yeah, yeah I know that." He looked relived, and Emily stared at the world as if passed by, tree by tree and mountain by mountain. Once again, she was able to appreciate the beauty of the Idaho countryside, as she realised that Morgan was right. "I know that but I just need to be told every once in a while."

"Hey," Even though she was not looking at his face, she could tell by the cocky undertones in his voice that he was wearing his trademark Derek smirk. "I'll remember to call you up early every Sunday morning and remind you."

"If you dare..." Emily threatened, feeling as if a large weight had been taken from her shoulders, and he laughed, sensing the lightening of her tone immediately, which relieved him immensely. Despite her protest, she was very grateful to her slightly younger colleague for his words. So often it was that she lost sight of why she did this job, but it was people like Derek Morgan who kept her priorities in focus.

Turning back to the window, she half listened as Morgan turned a radio station with obnoxious celebrities singing. But she couldn't focus on the sexed up lyrics of the latest song from Britney Spears. What was really on her mind?

Her goddamn Unit Chief, that's what.

Hotch was the reason that Raines had left so suddenly the night before. She had gone over the conversation dozens of times in her head, analysing every syllable of their night together, and the only reason she could pinpoint for Raines' sudden departure was almost embarrassing. The small town deputy had profiled her crush before even she had time to process that it existed. Next step, even Reid would know.

But what would she do? She was unsure what else she could do; she had offered him a chance to open up to her, bt he had shot her down. Easily, almost ridiculously so, she had profiled his jealousy, and she was pretty sure that he, the lead profiler, would have twigged that she was attracted to him. He must have known that her offer of a talk the evening before had been admittance that she needed him too, and that she was concerned about his emotional welfare. It didn't take a genius to guess that when someone worries about someone else, they have to care, even just a little.

His rejection, she had no problem with - she understood that he would need more than a passing offer during a case to be able to show her that he did want to open himself to her. It was his anger which had really hurt her. If he wasn't ready, she could understand. If it hurt too much, she could understand. But if for a second he believed that she would not be able to understand how a case hurt, how much that it could hit home, he was wrong. Shutting everyone off was a coping technique: Emily knew that, but this time it was different.

If he didn't want to be close to her though, that was fine. Aaron Hotchner was her boss. If he wanted nothing more to do with her, that was fine by her. She couldn't chase him forever, and quite frankly she was weary of their dance around the words that she had set out for him, but he had never actually said.

The team reached the runway with time to spare, but none of them wasted it, knowing that the jet could go early. Rossi carefully engineered their progress onto the plane, holding up Emily until she, and the two older members of the team were the only ones still outside. With a warning glance thrown Hotch's way, he boarded, giving Emily a slightly wary smile, as she glared at him for organizing such a meeting.

"Prentiss?" Reminding herself to keep professional, Emily bit back a hostile reply, and merely turned to look at him, trying to keep as much like Switzerland as possible.

"Yes?" She even included a small, trying warm smile, which fooled neither of them.

"Prentiss, we need to talk."

"About what, Sir?" Asked Emily, feigning ignorance and using his title, as a warning that she wasn't in the mood for a heart to heart. Hotch narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You know exactly what we need to talk about." Emily watched him steadily, waiting for him to speak first. She had nothing to be sorry for. Hotch took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for bitching at you." Surprised at the very un-Hotchlike admission, Emily raised an eyebrow for him to continue. Although he outranked her by a mile, he still had a lot to answer for. "I realise that the only reason I snapped at you this morning was because I was jealous." This time, Emily's expression softened.

"That's not why I'm mad, Hotch." She said, offering an admission of her own.

"You're mad because I can't let you in."

"I guess you deserve the name of lead profiler after all." Emily joked, dryly. "All I was asking for was a sign. I just wanted to know if I could help you. I know that you saw Jack in those boys, and I know that it hurt you. And when it hurts you, Hotch, it hurts the entire team." Emily looked away, at the makeshift stairway leading up to the plane a few meters away. They had moved away from the entrance to talk, although it was impossible for the team to hear them, all the way inside the plane anyway. "Most of all, it hurts me."

His eyes grew slightly wider at the raw emotion in her voice, and he grew flustered, the exhaustion and frustration of the past few days mounting up and shooing away any possible answers from his mind, making it once more impossible to concentrate on his own words.

"Emily, I didn't push you away because I thought that you wouldn't understand. I couldn't let you in. The only woman that I ever loved was murdered because of me, and I already have problems dividing my life between Jack and the BAU. What if you left too?" Hotch froze unsure that he had blurted out the right thing as Emily watched him through shocked brown eyes. Did he mean that?

"Did you mean that?" Good question. Hotch blinked, and rubbed his jaw, closing his eyes.

"I guess that I do." He admitted, and for a moment, he sounded ashamed. "I know that you're trustworthy: you proved that after Foyet; after everything. You stood by me and you didn't leave, and I know that I need to let you in, but I can't risk losing you as well. And let's face it; this is not a job which is easily done." They both knew what he meant. Every day, they risked their lives for the 'greater good', and who was to say that she would be there forever?

"Hotch, I want you to listen to me very carefully." Emily walked closer, keeping eye contact the entire time. "You can't just expect this all to be easy just because the romance in the movies and novels the TV shows is easy. Screw easy. Fate doesn't exist and it sure as hell doesn't have it in for you. Opportunities for happiness don't land in my lap every day, but I can deal with that. Because for me to take a chance, to have the courage and the push to face possible rejection and certainly changes in my life, that is enough to guarantee me a happy ending. The only question that remains here is if you want to roll the dice and grow a pair."

The eyebrow remained raised for a good few minutes, before a tiny, almost unnoticeable smirk came over Hotch's otherwise straight face. Emily appeared to realise what she had just said, and was clearly resisting the urge to slap herself in the forehead for such an obnoxious comment to her boss.

"Sir." She added on the end, as if that would help her case. Luckily, Hotch wholeheartedly agreed with what she said. He wasn't scared of serial killers, guns or snakes. There was no excuse for being scared that a woman as tough as Emily Prentiss would leave before she did.

"So you're really not mad because I bitched at you?" He checked, just in case. Emily smiled, relieved that he had accepted her argument, though still unsure that he had agreed to take a chance with her.

"No, I'm not angry because I'm glad that you bitched at me." Hotch frowned. This woman was a constant surprise.

"Why?"

"Because now," Emily placed her hands on his shoulders firmly, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "I know that you won't fire me if I do this." He knew that she was going to kiss him seconds before she did, so he had time to think about it, and he had time to push her away. But he didn't, because her argument had hit home. He had promised, not only to Haley, but to himself, that he would show Jack that there was love in the world. What better way was there than to take a chance?

So he finally grew a pair and kissed her back.

Holding her close, their warmth almost unbearable in the midst of the hot summer day, he realized that although it was the beginning, and they had a long way ahead of them before they could even begin to start thinking about the other normal practices in relationships, it felt decidedly good. There was a pleasant emptiness in his chest, where lead had resided mere moments before.

Did this constitute as letting her in? He should hope so, because Rossi was right. It did feel good.

They finally broke apart, breathless not for air, but for each other.

"We should get on the jet. The others will start to wonder." Hotch said, finally, resting his forehead gently against her, as if the lack of bare skin contact for the few seconds had sucked the energy from him.

"About the others-" Emily started, uncertainly, but her Unit Chief cut her off.

"I won't lie if they ask." Hotch said, anticipating her question correctly before it made air. "But I won't write it on my forehead."

"They're profilers, Hotch. We might as well have it written on our foreheads." She replied good-temperedly, following him up the stairs and onto the plane. They took a well deserved minute to fix their poker faces before ducking through to the main cabin.

They expected the normal jet routine: Morgan listening to his music while Reid played cards with JJ, while Rossi read some book or another. However, when they came in the door, all the members of the team merely stared at them, some merely smirking and some outright grinning.

"Told you." Emily muttered, though even she was perplexed at how fast they had guessed. Hotch threw an evil glare in Rossi's direction, but he shrugged, and Morgan decided to put them out of their misery, as they took up their seats - Hotch next to Rossi and Emily by Reid.

"There's this wonderful invention called glass." Morgan chided them, grinning as he tapped the window next to him with his knuckles. "It allows us to see from inside the jet to the runway below."

While Hotch merely shook his head, Emily flushed slightly, and flicked Morgan's ear before turning to JJ and Reid, who were also smiling, although they had the decency to try and hide it.

"Real mature guys. Let's play some cards." Emily huffed, though she was glad that they knew. Although it meant merciless teasing - especially when Garcia found out - she was glad that she didn't have to hide from them. Her and Hotch would have enough problems without having to sneak around, at least from those who they were closest with.

But as she had said earlier, in her frustrated and slightly flustered state: Opportunities for happiness didn't land in her lap every day, but she could deal with that. For her to take a chance, to have the courage and the push to face possible rejection and certainly changes in her life, that is enough to guarantee her a fairytale ending.

A few seats over, Hotch's train of thought was following the same rails, and he almost smiled to himself, thinking of how glad he was that he finally took a chance.

**...**

_So that's all folks. I really hope you've enjoyed this story, and even if you haven't, please review and tell me why. Thanks for sticking this long with it! _

_-Seven x x _


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